


Vier

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Gland Kink, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Moresomes, Multi, Oil Gland Kink, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt:</b><i>Written for the Team Free Love Secret Lover's Exchange.</i> "Take my prompts and run with them wherever they lead you: Wing!kink would love it if two were angels and the other two got wings from mating (can be 2 pairs, or poly amory SPN or RPS). Really with a focus on grooming and erotic play with the wings/ a four-way alpha/beta/omega polyamory."<br/><b>Summary:</b> Angels were created to hold all things in common and in an misguided attempt at helping, the boys call in Gabriel and inadvertently trigger a mating frenzy. (Moresome & Nothing but smut, really.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vier

**Author's Note:**

> Hah, I don't actually think it would have been humanly possible to write any LESS plot. Hardcore PWP. Also, written about two months ago soooooo... a little dated ;)

* * *

**Vier  
** xsnappapplex

 

  
  
     There was something wrong with Castiel.  
  
     Riding a hair-trigger between bitter and explosive his usual glum was moreso, as painful as it was obtrusive. Dean shrugged it off at first because frankly, he didn’t care. If Castiel had something on his mind, he was welcome to bring it to the table but Dean wasn’t a babysitter and Sam’s tragically disappointed puppyface wasn’t about to change that. So either he could get over his personal issues publically, privately or not at all but between Sam trying to be accommodating and Castiel being overtly hostile, Dean was stretched to his last fractured nerve.  
  
     Then, it got worse.  
  
     From criminally abrasive to exhausted; packed and ready to leave Fayetteville Castiel wouldn’t get out of bed and so, Dean approached it in that usual way. Starting with sarcasm and ending with fine stay here then, Castiel didn’t budge. Sam tried to make peace and Castiel let lose a string of Enochian that in English would have begun with an expletive and ended with yourself, but what he actually said was: it would be pleasing to the Lord if you drowned yourself in a river. Sam got the gist of it.  
  
     Pacing in the dinette, Dean was at a loss.  
  
     “Sam, seriously- I don’t know what to do, it’s not exactly like we can walk him down to the clinic and have someone give him a once-over!”  
  
     “Well, what do we do?”  
  
     “I just said I don’t know!” Dean sighed, “He’s obviously- well, something’s wrong but if he’s not going to tell us what, what’re we supposed to do about it?”  
  
     “Did you try calling Bobby?”  
  
     “Yeah, no dice.”  
  
     “He didn’t know anything?”  
  
     “Nope.”  
  
     “Helpful.”  
  
     “No shit.”  
  
     “Well…” Sam hesitated, “We could ask another angel.”  
  
     “Fuck no.”  
  
     “Dean, he could be really sick and I don’t know, maybe it’s a pride thing or something. Angels are pretty much invincible so maybe it’s something he doesn’t think he can tell us? I mean, since when has Cas needed to sleep? He’s been in bed all morning, never mind he’s been acting crazy all week.”  
  
     “Trust me, noticed in spades.”  
  
     “Well?”  
  
     “Well, who’re we going to call?” Dean shook his head, “We’ve got a target on our heads the size of Jersey and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, pretty much everyone who’s anyone wants to serve us up medium rare, fillet o’ soul.”  
  
     “What about Gabriel?”  
  
     “Are you friggin’ kidding me?”  
  
     “Listen, I don’t like it either but I don’t know if we’ve got much of a choice here, Dean. If something is really wrong, can we afford to wait? I mean, they’re brothers. I can see him not wanting to help us, but if Cas is-“  
  
     Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, Sam was right. “Alright.”  
  
     “Alright?”  
  
     “Yeah, just let me go check on him one last time. Get the summoning stuff out, I don’t think he’ll show up on a prayer. If he’s still knock-knock-knockin’ on death’s door, we’ll make the call.”  
  
     “Yeah,” Sam nodded, “Yeah, okay.”  
  
     Dean crept back into the bedroom, shutting the door with a finalizing click and made his way over to Castiel shivering underneath the blankets. Dean wrinkled his nose; the room smelt strange.  
  
     “Listen,” He rested his hand on top of the covers. “Focus, Cas. I don’t know why you can’t tell us what’s wrong, but we’re going to patch you up. We’ve got it covered.”  
  
     Castiel moaned.  
  
     “You’re gonna be okay.”  
  
     “Dean-“  
  
     “Yeah?”  
  
     “Go away, please- you have to, I can’t…”  
  
     “Okay. Okay, just… I’ll be back- we’re going to- just, hang in there.”  
  
     Castiel curled tighter into himself and made a broken noise and feeling terrible, Dean went to go find Sam in the kitchen.  
  
     “Did you get everything?”  
  
     “Yeah, we’re set.”  
  
     “Alright, well-“ Dean shook his head, “You might as well do it. He only killed me what, a hundred times? Something tells me he probably likes you better.”  
  
     Sam nodded, dropping a match before stepping back. There was an immediate crackle of unsubstantial lightening, near-silent thunder echoed through the motel room as the lights flickered. In a rush of temporal speed that sucked the air from the room, Gabriel was standing in the kitchen.  
  
     “Well, well what do we-“ Gabriel froze, “Oh, hell!”  
  
     Dean interrupted, “Listen, Cas is sick or something and-“  
  
     “Do you know what you’ve just done?”  
  
     “What do you mean, what we’ve just-“  
  
     It was too late.  
  
     “You boneheads really fucked it up this time.”  
  
     “Gabriel.”  
  
     Castiel’s voice washed over them in a low and dirty growl. Sam was already staring and Dean’s gaze followed; he was nude, the tatters of his coat and suit jacket caught up in his wings. Dean’s brain stuttered as it wrapped around what he was seeing; protruding from Castiel’s back, sheeny-soft but oiled and slick wings, enormous and spanned. It was a confusing mash of color, the eyes read black but it was so much richer, chocolate tinted with a thousand colorful enigmas flickering in the light.  
  
     Sam nostrils flared and Dean recognized the same vague smell as earlier but magnified, almost crippling. Spicy, it stirred the blood, clouded everything in want and need until there was nothing but Castiel’s blue-blown eyes. Pulling away from his lost and steady gaze was like fighting gravity, but Dean managed a backwards glance at Sam. Frozen, Sam was watching Castiel like a hungry thing and from behind them they heard the thump of Gabriel’s knees hitting the ground.  
  
     Crouched on all fours, back arched as the fabric of his shirt stretched to accommodate his burgeoning wingspan, Gabriel groaned. Broader than Castiel’s his were a tawny gold undercut with the same sex-and-want smell that had so immediately pervaded everything. Dean could hear the rustle of Castiel’s wings- he was posturing, each feather bristling to make him appear bigger, stronger. Every muscle in his body was stretched taught with the effort of exertion, human body thrumming with the strain of manifesting without freeing the light of his being. Castiel’s cock was hanging hard heavy between his legs as he staggered into the dinette, every footfall a dull thud on the linoleum.  
  
     “Cas…?” Dean felt like he could swallow his tongue.  
  
     Ignoring him, Castiel stared at Gabriel. “Would you take them?”  
  
     “We don’t have to-“  
  
     “Would you take them?”  
  
     Gabriel shuddered, the ripple and shake sliding down his spine and peaking as he splayed his primary feathers. Sam felt his knees weaken, a fresh sweat breaking on his skin. It was persuasive, slithered down his spine and pooled in his belly as the heat of it wrapped around his cock, a smooth but inhuman caress. Indiscriminate wanting- touch, love, sex it didn’t matter, just hunger burrowing in his gut, driving him to touch, to prostrate himself and worship at the feet of an angel.  
  
     “Would you-“  
  
     Gabriel had stood and in the split second it had taken Castiel to brace himself, Gabriel’s fist had connected with his jaw. Reeling Castiel’s wings curled around in reflex and he touched a finger to the side of his mouth. In a sag of energy, Castiel stilled and after a moment of breathless tensity his flared wingtips relaxed, his posture more placating. It was the order of angels, polyamory was a common solution to conflict and while Castiel might hold a territorial precedent, Gabriel was an archangel. As complex as it was, it boiled down to sex or violence and which was preferable.  
  
     It was almost always sex.  
  
     No longer predatory, Castiel’s was a sensual slink as he came closer, circled left to Gabriel’s right. Sam was saying something, it sounded like what’s going on but it was nearly impossible for Dean to hear, to think. There was a heat rising in him, something animal that pumped and thrummed through his veins and told him if he wanted, take. It seized him completely, short-circuited his brain until there was no sound but the primal drumbeat of the soul. Live, love, fuck- it was nothing but a mantra.  
  
     “I can’t-“  
  
     Move.  
  
     Stop.  
  
     Feel anything but this.  
  
     This is everything.  
  
     “It’s okay.”  
  
     It was, wasn’t it?  
  
     “ _Dean..._ ” Castiel’s voice was low and desperate.  
  
     Sam was vaguely aware of Dean’s presence as he felt Gabriel’s stocky body slide behind his, breath hot in his ear. It was nothing if not overwhelming, suddenly and entirely too warm but in a fog of confused want, welcome. Something, anything- touch, take if it would sooth the empty ache inside and make him whole again. Divested of his shirt, his pants and shoes he was naked but no more ashamed than Adam in the presence of his lord. Slowly he was pressed into and against the floor, Gabriel’s hands mapping out every perfectly imperfect blemish.  
  
     Castiel was in Dean’s headspace, close enough to smell his coffee breath and lap away the whisky vapour from his tongue. It was a messy kiss, sloppy because Castiel was no more familiar with it than anything else. Peeling off clothing in layers was frustrating, it wasted time and for a split second Dean lost all sense of gravity. Slamming back into his body he stared down at Castiel naked and spread beneath him. Floor, carpet- it was a vague awareness of surrounding because his senses were tunnelled, entirely focused on Castiel’s writhing form, wings- God, they looked soft. Dean wanted to touch them and so he did, raked his fingers through, tugging them out of and back into place. Castiel threw his head back against the foot-and-cigarette carpet and Dean was weightless. Trailing his hands from brittle primaries to the downy-soft and body-warmed inner feathers he buried his fingers in between because in a fisheye world this was the only thing that was real, the only thing he would ever need.  
  
     There was a mental fog surrounding them, blocking out everything but Castiel and his taught belly, his cream-pale skin. Pervasive and heavy sandalwood Castiel smelt deep, musky and male. It was so thick Dean could taste it and he wanted to taste it, let it flood his senses and quicken his pulse. Filthy like day-old sweat and sex but cool like an ocean breeze it carved space on his palette and sat nakedly on his tongue. Whatever it was, he wanted to drag his mouth through it, cover his body in it and let it soak to the core because he belonged to that smell forever and always.  
  
     Dean felt something tickling at his back and turning his head, he was eclipsed by Gabriel’s tawny-gold feathers. His was a different smell and a different connotation, not offensive to the palette but it didn’t arouse in shades of sea and need. Rosemary and pine, robust, mulled but seemingly impersonal; it wasn’t begging to be taken and it wasn’t meant for Dean. No, it was something virile.  
  
     “Going to slick you down. Slide in, hot and tight.”  
  
     Sam was spread out, nude and desperate.  
  
     Gabriel was straddling his hips, the dripping trail from his wings base glistening between his shoulder blades. Raking his fingers through the mess Gabriel painted it down Sam’s chest, scraped blunted nails over his nipples and massaged the overused muscle, kneaded himself into his skin.  
  
     “Sam…” Dean was supposed to…  
  
     Say something.  
  
     Do something.  
  
     Anything.  
  
     But-  
  
      _Why?_  
  
     There was nothing but the grind-and-roll of Castiel’s hips underneath his, gathering his attention back in breathless mewls. Beside him Sam’s neck arched, head burying into Castiel’s shoulder before laying butterfly kisses against the blank expanse of skin. It was a hot and desperate trade of tongues; Castiel’s mouth opening for Sam’s to swallow the sound of Gabriel pushing into his slick-and-oiled body.  
  
     Hot, tight; Sam moaned and Castiel lapped it better.  
  
     No jealousy, no worry or social boundary- no brothers, nothing but the heady rush of we are and always will be, where there was nothing but everything warm and willing. Drowning in Castiel, Dean slid work-worn palms over his hips, counted his ribs two by two. Leaning down he kissed his navel, licked the soft indent of his thigh and dragging his tongue to shoulder, tangled it with Sam’s and tasted the never-ending murmur of Gabriel’s name. Polyamorous, infectious perfection- a pile of bodies all too eager for taboos and labels because in a short, brutish life there was solace in sex.  
  
     Gabriel pulled Sam’s too-big body into his lap, let him mold to the hard-lined rhythm of his body because it wasn’t sexuality, preference or gender but something hot and hard inside, fisting his hair to suck purpling bruises into his neck. Sam had found a rough and easy addiction, covered in musk-oil and bathed in feathers, Gabriel buried cockdeep in his body- it was what he wanted, to be owned.  
  
     Castiel was on his hands and knees, presenting. Dean leaned into the space between his wings where it glistened and dragged his tongue along the ridge of his spine. Somehow he knew the structure, the names: dextraorbital palette, humerus, ulna, radius- but what was important was that if he tugged the wings apart Castiel’s moan was low and deep. If he forced them together he whimpered and if he forced his thumbs against the pink and swollen glands he was covered in a thick but welcome smell. Slicking his hand he spread Castiel’s legs that much farther because on his knees he begged in so many shades of quiet and Dean’s frenzy was nothing but pheromones and creative design.  
  
     Sam was spread back out on the stale carpet, Gabriel pushing his legs to his chest to enjoy the view, the connotation. Sam didn’t want gentle, wasn’t something breakable- he was something conquered because it was good; sensation and culmination coming to a head because Gabriel watched his greedy little hole reddening, sucking him cockdeep, oil-drenched and warm. Gabriel was brutal because he could be and Sam was accommodating because he ached for it. He’d ride him until he was puffed and sore and then, sopping wet with oil and spunk he would fuck him three-knuckle deep. Sam wouldn’t come unless it was swollen and shaking and then Gabriel would kiss away all the hurt, pet him like a loved thing and sooth him in an entanglement of shared heartbeats. Sam wanted and Gabriel knew; he could hear every filthy fantasy buzzing through his head and he would have them, all of them.  
  
     Castiel keened.  
  
     Spreading Castiel’s cheeks Dean lapped at the always-clean of his body, forced a forked tongue against the pucker to feel the give. It was impossibly tight and there was no leverage, so he spread the soft wrinkles smooth with his thumbs to lap away the skin-taste and salt. Castiel trembled and swallowed every eager sound, listened to Sam’s strangled pants and the slap of skin on skin. Dean’s thumb forced his way inside, wet by a fervent tongue but still dry enough to burn.  
  
     It was a delicious precipice, pain-perfect and Castiel leaned into it, forced the stretch and wanted more because in the shadow of an archangel he was ever the willing supplicant.  
  
     Gabriel kissed Sam leaving the bow of his lip red-ripe and bruised. Gathering a fistful of hair he pulled, exposing the stubbled peach of his Adam’s apple. Teeth, tongue- first a nip and then a salve, dragging the sensation to height before letting it float gently back down. Sam was in his lap again, rocking as deeply as height would allow. A familiar tightness curled in his abdomen, creeping heat that spread from the base of the spine and flared- Gabriel was close. Spreading out to span each feather trembled, remiges primary and secondary before cascading downwards and forever.  
  
     It was radial energy, more substantial than something paltry, human. It was a flood of warmth and wetness by design but more than that a hum of immaterial light, shockwave spirals of electrostatic pulse chasing their way from Sam’s spine to Gabriel’s. Sliding down the wing-vein it was like shedding a second skin, stretching before snapping, splitting down the middle until there was nothing but bloodpump and heartbeat and Sam. Trapped in a lifebreath coil they were for a moment something in between heaven and earth, no more one than the other and fragilely but poignantly equal.  
  
     Castiel could feel the change, it was all temperature. Sam’s arms were gently untangled from Gabriel’s neck as Dean slicked Castiel down, thick cock shoving inside a parallel to Gabriel’s fingers wrecking Sam. Pump and thrust and pant and breathe and remember to keep living because it was starburst destruction, molten and hard. Sam was swearing in a stream of heady, steady nonsense and that was fine because Dean was his faithful echo, yes and no and always forever.  
  
     Buried in Castiel’s unused body for all the times he had slid energy to effigy amongst heaven’s incorporeal bodies this was rubbed-raw real and for that reason, perfect.  
  
     It was Nephilic sin, but it was good.  
  
     Dean was a man possessed, pumping and straining because every thrust was lightening self-destruction and he had never been so close to God. Castiel pressed his cheek to the carpet, felt it rake and burn as he was forced forward in inches. Dean grabbed him at the wing joint, fisted the thick muscles and dragged him closer. It was impossible, Dean was girthed and good but it was compounded by the careless handling of his tender glands. Dean pressed his thumbs between the joints, followed the gentle dip of his uropygials and forced the tip of his finger inside.  
  
     Castiel felt the blunted burn and was shattered, coming as Sam watched, fucked raw on three fingers. Dean grunted, disjointed and perfunctory thrusts one, two and three as Castiel wrapped a shaking hand around Sam’s swollen cock. It was synergy, a perfect peak of rhythm as Dean came denting moon-bruises into Castiel’s hip and Sam came mouth slack and eyes glazed. In like and common it was shared breaths, panted into the earthspace carved out and made to cradled the implosive moment they shared before leaving them apart again, sated.  
  
     Sam could feel a tingle racing up his spine, buzzing and crawling and leaning forward he felt a phantom weight protruding from his shoulder blades. It was a heavy pull, straining on muscles that weren’t prepared as reality bent to accommodate. Gabriel was stroking his spine and sleepy but no less invested, Castiel gently palmed Dean’s shoulder blades. There was nothing to see but Sam could feel the illusion of wings curling around him, could feel Gabriel comb through feathers he didn’t have, arranging them row by row. It was a disjointed sensation, altogether too intimate but Sam closed his eyes and let it wash over him, clean away his mind and satisfy something deeper than sex.  
  
     Castiel was tender in his ministrations, if not more placating. Such a graceful extension of self, invisibly but perfectly manifested because there was more than skin on skin. If it was only for a few stolen moments that they could share something so angelically commonplace, so be it. Castiel let the silk stalks tickle his face, left butterfly kisses that seemed planted in the air. Slowly the illusion flickered, fading until he was left kissing Dean’s freckled skin because he was human and always would be.  
  
     Gabriel sighed.  
  
     It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but there was a plan. It was all politics, and as well-meaning as Castiel was he was young, naïve. A mating-frenzy might be commonplace in heaven but not on earth, not in the middle of a holy war. Gabriel knew a few things about getting attached and why you shouldn’t whereas Castiel- well, he loved so indiscriminately. Sex and violence came as naturally to bodies in heaven as it did to animals on earth but between brothers it was something decidedly unnatural- at least, between mortal brothers with so many hypersensitive stigmas.  
  
     Love; it was both the problem and the solution. Gabriel rested a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze and wished he had something to say. A sexpile of traded grace in God’s kingdom was a holy thing but on earth it was carnal, a thousand guilty shades of suggestion. Gabriel had been dragged into the middle because it was nature; one wants and they all want in like kind, a seething mass of celestial bodies. God had made them to hold in common, but men weren’t the same. No, they coveted and held themselves apart from one another, made selection, made choice. All the walls came down when the haze wore off and he already knew it wouldn’t be okay.  
  
     Lingering eyes flitting over Sam’s too-lanky frame nude and nuzzled into Dean, Gabriel felt a small pang in his chest. Looking into Sam’s head, feeling the things he wanted, the way he wanted to be touched, loved- it was a memory he’d have to live with. Taking a deep breath, Gabriel let it out slowly.  
  
     Big brothers fix things.  
  
     That’s what they do.  
  
     “It all changes if they remember, Kiddo.”  
  
     “Wha-”  
  
     And then it all went white.


End file.
